


Breakdown

by thesunsaid



Category: Sagas of Sundry: Dread (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Gen, Haunting, Horror, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Yuletide, mentions of Raina/Darby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28146588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesunsaid/pseuds/thesunsaid
Summary: Raina's away at art school for a year. This is her second semester and the lingering memories of that night still haunt her.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Breakdown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lauren (LaurenThemself)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurenThemself/gifts).



“Your friend called again, Raina. Doesn’t Sat have your cell phone number, dear?”

“Yes, mom. I’m just... I’m busy, that’s all. I’ll call her back when I get the chance.”

A lie. Raina has no intention of calling Sat or Darby or any of them. She tried once, in a moment of weakness after Darby started talking so much nonsense about the goat spirit, she tried calling Tanner. She just wanted-- she’d hoped he could maybe talk to Darby, tell her none of it was real, get those thoughts out of her head. He hadn’t answered and well eventually, it was too much with Darby too. She didn’t want to think about what happened at all. A whole semester had passed and she just wanted to move on. 

Raina can hear her mother still talking, something about their neighbors and she closes her eyes, trying to focus back on the conversation. She leans back on her small bunk, pulling her legs up close. 

“Honey, you’ve gotten quiet. Are classes okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, mom. I’m okay. Classes are good. They’re keeping me busy, like I said.”

Another lie. She’s exhausted. She has thrown herself into her schoolwork because she doesn’t have any other choice. She’s finally sleeping without hearing their voices. When it’s not dark and she doesn’t hear the loud and terrifying laughing that tracked them. She can sleep most nights without waking up to the scent of dirt and the taste of copper

“Well hon, just call me if you need anything. We miss you.”

“I will, mom.”

She won’t. This isn’t even the first time her mother has tried to contact her about someone else calling their house for her. Sat has tried to call a few times. Since she stopped talking to Darby, she’s called at least twice. She doesn’t know what her mom has told them, and it doesn’t really matter anymore. She never asks. Doesn’t ever plan on asking. 

“Love you, dear.”

She hangs up the phone without saying anything in return. The small mundanities of a simple phone call with her mother or anyone from home is draining. It’s just another reminder of who and what she left behind. 

\---

“Raina, why don’t you explain this to us.”

She has to drag herself up, one slow foot in front of the other to the front of the classroom. She stands beside the long bulletin board covered in their class artwork. Charcoals this week. She scans the pieces, wishing any of them were hers except the one that is. A barren hilltop, a dark swirling sky. She could lie and say she was inspired by Monet’s riverside studies. Say that this piece is a study of light and dark... of the contrast between the plain field and the moving, roiling sky above it. Something about movement and stillness. After her first semester she came back from Christmas break and realized she already knew enough of the lingo and had been through enough of these class critiques to bullshit her way through them.

But she looks up at it and all she can see is what’s missing. The house. The tunnels. The horror of it all. She wishes she had signed up for a different subject, not a landscape, a life drawing, a still life... just about anything else. A portrait even, she’d always been good at those. 

“Raina?” Her teacher, a woman in her early fifties with a fondness for flowing house dresses and collage pieces studded with gold leaf, is watching her with a raised eyebrow and an outstretched hand pointing to her classmates. “We’re waiting.” 

“It’s a hillside,” she says in a rushed breath. “The sky is dark, just beyond twilight. I wanted to show the movement of the sky... like time passing when you’re not paying attention.”

“Ah hah,” her teacher, one Ms. Bachman, gestures at the class. “Well what do we see in Raina’s landscape here? How well do we think she’s conveyed her message?”

Raina stares at her work in favor of having to look any of her classmates in the eye as they try to sound thoughtful and expound on what she knows is bullshit. Yes, there is movement in the sky she’s drawn, but it’s not time. She could fall into it if she stares too long, it’s not moving away, it’s reaching down. It’s coming for her. It’s coming for the house just over the ridge. She knows it’s there. She remembers and she hates the memories. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been.

\---

She can’t walk the campus park to clear her head, so Raina wanders the library instead. Sketchpad in hand she draws small portraits of students huddled over small tables, heads buried in books. They start normal: a pair of glasses, rounded cheeks, a mass of ink black hair pulled up into a bun. Bright floral tattoos running from under a sleeveless shoulder and down the length of an arm. The colors blur, drawing out the stark black outline. Her pencil shades in hair, tattoos, the gesture of a shirt over the familiar hunch a figure lost in their studies. 

When she’s caught staring, her subject merely smiles. She recognizes them from somewhere, a class? Her dorms? She tries to smile back, hands slowly covering her sketch out of habit and the bright flush of shame in being caught. 

They’re the opposite of Darby, dark where she was light, soft where Darby was sharp. And she hates that she makes the comparison, making an effort to slump down into her chair, hoping to avoid a conversation. What would she say anyhow? 

Turns out it’s not for her to figure out. 

“Hey, I’m Jess,” they say.

Raina feels the nervous drum beat of her heart all the way to her fingertips. She drops her pencil. 

“Um,” she leans down to grab her pencil but Jess gets there first. She tries not to snatch it back, letting Jess hand it over slowly. Jess’s fingers graze hers for just a moment and it’s like a wave crashes down on her. She’s back there.

Back there.

Back--

“Hey, I’m sorry--” Jess says. “If you’d rather-- wait, is that me?”

Oh god. “Yeah. Oh god. I’m sorry. I’m in art... I have classes... I’m--”

Jess chuckles, “Most people here are.” They take a seat on the low table between the group of chairs Raina’s been sketching from. “That’s cool though. Can I see?”

She’s such a mess. Yes, of course, of course they can see it. Raina nervously nods, somehow shaking her head at the same time. “Yes, yes. Yeah.” She thrusts out her sketchbook letting Jess take it off her hands. 

Somehow that helps. 

“Oh wow. Um. Sorry, just this is amazing. Is that how you see me?” Jess softly strokes the page, careful not to smudge any of Raina’s lines. “It’s dark, but wow, that’s really good. I normally don’t like pictures of me.”

“I’m sorry,” Raina says. And then another thought. “Dark?” She lifts her eyebrows and leans forward to look at the page. What did she do? 

The sketch is there, Jess in profile, focused on their studies. But there’s more, shadow tendrils in the background, shadows down the center of her back, the undersketch still showing the skeletal structure of a skull behind Jess’s rounded facial features. There’s a dark spot over their chest, growing beyond the outline of their clothes, smudged and a strange extension of the joint framework beneath. 

“Sorry,” Raina says, reaching out to take the book back. “It’s not.. I wasn’t finished. I can get rid of it if you want. I should’ve asked or something...”

“No, no. Don’t do that. I like it. Yeah, it’s dark but it’s unique and it’s still me. Obviously me. You have something here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Keep it,” Jess says. “I’m kind of flattered?” They shrug and smile, catching Raina’s eyes as she hands the sketchbook back over.

She thinks of Sat then, of the way she learned the framework for her style, those little guides that have helped her better draw things other than dragons, learning to study people from real life. Back when she learned to draw Darby. 

She opens her mouth as if to say ‘ _thanks, my friend Sat--_ ’ but stops herself. Instead she flips the sketchbook closed and slides her pencil through the rings to hold it in place. 

“You’re not upset?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Thanks,” Raina says. 

Jess quickly grabs a pen from their nearby desk and returns, grabbing Raina’s hand as she sits back down. She starts to write something on Raina’s hand. “Is it okay?”

“Um...” _Is it okay?_ It’s just a number. And she needs something normal. Someone normal. This feels like something normal. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

“My number. If you decide you want to get rid of it, give me a call. Or just give me a call. I’d love to see more of your work, if you’ve got it.”

\---

“Sat called the house again, Raina. I know I don’t know them all well, but you know, she sounded kind of sad. Did you ever check in with her after last time?”

“You haven’t told them--”

“No, no, of course not. I’m not sure I understand though. Honey, I thought--.”

“I just need some space, mom.”

“Of course, dear. Think about what you want to do for the break though. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to see them? But you’ve got some time left in the semester, so you do what you need to.”

At first she’d told them all to come visit her. Tried to shake off everything that happened that night and just enjoy the last few days she had before school started. She’d wanted to just forget it all. Then she moved three-thousand miles away to go to school and at first, it seemed like it might be okay. But it wasn’t the same. And no one had the money to come visit. She understood that. But the distance--

Distance did something to memories. It expanded them, darkened them. Her dreams were shadowed and cold and only reminded her of things she wanted to forget. Darby became obsessed with it all. Talked about magic and spirits and how maybe what happened to them wasn’t all bad. _No_ , she’d said. _No, Darby. It’s not real. It’s not magic. It just isn’t. Please. Please don’t do this. I don’t think I can do this. I can’t watch you do this._

And maybe this is why she brushed off Jess’ calls too and the library with any opportunity to cross paths with them again. She’s just not ready for anything. Maybe with some time away, without worry feeding into Darby’s delusions, she’ll be able to go home and find her different. Good again. _Maybe._

Raina exhales, closing her eyes against stinging tears. She can feel it in her cheeks and her nose, the back of her throat as the sob jerks up through her lungs. In a single quick rush of words she says, “I gotta go, mom. Love you.”

“Love you.” 

She hangs up and tosses her phone down on the bed. It’s too late though. The tears come and her chest heaves with the choked repressed cry she’s been avoiding for so long. She presses her hands to her face as if to catch her own tears. It’s a losing battle. 

Raina pushes aside a new sketch and lays down on her bed. She’d been fairly sure she was ruining another landscape. A building on campus rife with structural decay, vines crawling up it’s sides, half hiding it in shadow. She’ll rework it for class another time. Thinking about anything else will be left for another day.

She misses them and she hates it. And she hates that she hates that too. She just wants to be normal. To stop thinking about them, or that night, or about Darby. She wants to stop drawing shitty landscapes that only turn into that same fucking house, that same hillside. She shrinks down, pulls her knees into her chest and tries not to think about any of it.

\---

Her paints are muddy on the palette, a large glob of burnt sienna landing in the hunter green and she tries to extract it but she’s too slow to clean her palette knife and they seep together. She squishes them with her palette knife and tries to salvage a decent brown out of the combo. To one side she squeezes another bit of burnt sienna out of the tube and swirls a bit of crimson in on one side, a bit of yellow on the other and sets a wide brush down in the middle. She likes the idea of putting down the new gradient of orange down into the wild trees in her painting. Even the mess of bluish-greenish-brown she’s created on her palette knife is of some use. 

This is the thing she likes about painting, she’s discovered, it’s easy to get lost in the simple mess of it all. There can be chaos and there can be order, and there’s a world of colors in between to try out. And with oil paint she can scrape off bits of paint that don’t work and try again. Or with acrylics she can just wait five minutes, like the weather, and it’ll be different. It’ll dry and she can build on it like what was underneath never happened. 

Raina loses herself in the colors. In the forested hillside she’s built up on her canvas where the still life tablecloth drapes down and off the side of the table. Sure, in the center she’s still pressed into the canvas three bright and plump oranges and the silver bowl that’s holding them. But into the space on either side, where the faded orange tablecloth should reside, she’s painted a familiar hillside, a familiar forest.

“An interesting take, Raina--” 

Something is beside her, to her left and a shade falls over her canvas. The forest darkens. 

Rain spins, knocking the canvas to the side. Her hands grip the easel and it easily comes off the ground. The breath goes out of her as she knocks into the dark haired figure behind her. She strikes, the easel collapsing against her hand. The slight pinch of pain against her fingers draws a sharp-tongued ‘fuck you’ out of her. The wooden easel makes contact with the figure and she wheels it back for another hit. 

The figure is knocked off-balance and she feels something hit her foot. Raina screeches and strikes it again. “No,” she screams. She hits it again. 

There’s laughing and a face with a smiling rictus grin. She wants to smash it into pieces. The easel comes down heavily onto that frightening, terrible smile. There’s blood but she doesn’t stop. She hits it again. 

Again. And again. 

And again. 

\---

“Raina, honey, talk to me.”

Raina sits, hunched forward over her knees which she’s pulled to her chest. Her face is down, a hand to her forehead to block her view of the rest of the Dean’s office. 

“Listen, Dean Fry, I know that this wasn’t good. But I know my daughter. She didn’t mean to do this. She’s been through some things--”

Raina shakes her head but doesn’t lift it. “Mom, you don’t have to--” She looks up and stares across the Dean’s desk. Her face contorts in discomfort and shame. “I am so sorry for what happened. She turns to her left and looks at her painting instructor, “Mr Li, I cannot say how sorry I am for everything. You just caught me by surprise.”

The Dean leans forward his hands clasped on the desk before him. “Raina, what happened is serious. Now your mother and I have spoken already before her arrival here. We are sensitive to your situation. But, assault against a member of the faculty is a serious matter.”

“I know,” she says. Her eyes are watering, lip quivering. She can feel the full panic rising in her chest. She’s not going to make it through this without crying. But what’s another day of tears. She puts her chin on her knees. 

Mr. Li turns sideways in his chair. “Raina, it’s obvious I spooked you.”

Raina nods. “Yeah. I don’t...there’s stuff... I’m working on it? I really am sorry. I didn’t realize it was you.”

“Dean Fry, what are our options here? There are only a few weeks left in the semester, but I’m hoping there’s something, some option to let her finish? I’ve promised to help her get some help.”

“What?” Raina turns to look at her mother. 

“Well, honey, I think maybe we should have you talk to someone. Dean Fry says that there’s someone on staff here that you can talk to at the school, if you’re willing to do that in order to complete the last few weeks until summer?”

“And painting?” Raina looks at Mr. Li. 

The older man chuckles. “Now that I better understand, we can set you up in a different location in class, make sure this doesn’t happen again.” He rubs at his lip, still healing from where the easel split it. “Adjustments can be made.”

“I am sorry, Mr. Li. I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t even know it was you, you just took me by surprise.” Her voice shakes as she speaks, slow tears creeping down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

Her mom grabs her arm. “Raina, we’ll figure it out.”

“Okay,” she whispers, covering her mom’s hand with her own. “Thank you.” She peeks over her knees at the Dean. “Thank you.” And then again at Mr. Li with a soft shake of her head. “Thank you.”

\---

The call comes on the last day of the semester. She’s already packed; she’s ready to go home and put the whole semester behind her. And something about the empty dorm room around her feels more familiar now than it has all year. She’s running again. Only this time it’s to the safety of her own home. Her parents are going to help her. She’s got to prove she’s worth coming back to this school. 

“I’m all packed, mom,” she says as she picks up the phone. “I’ll be at the airport in an hour.”

“Hey Raina.” It’s Sat’s voice on the other end of the line. And she’s not sure why but she’s crying again. 

Her voice catches slightly as she tries to hide the emotion in it. “Hey.”

“I’m sorry, your mom gave me this number. She said you’re coming home for summer break?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Sorry, if I caught you at a bad time. It’s been hard to get a hold of you.”

Raina exhales and slips down to sit on the bed, bag still over her shoulder. “Yeah. I needed a little space, Sat. I hope that’s okay.”

“Totally, totally. But I wanted to invite you to something.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, well you know... it’s almost been a year...”

“A year?”

“Yeah, since you know, everything that happened last year.”

“Yeah.”

She can almost hear Sat’s shrug through the phone, as something rustles on the other end of the line. She can picture her friend, leather jacket, old phone, heavy eyeliner. She’s still quietly crying between her words, but she smiles at the thought. She has missed her so much. There’s so much about school she’s wanted to share with her. So much that only Sat would understand.

“Well, yeah. So I thought. You know, it’s been about a year and I wanted to see if we could all go for another camping trip. Just like go back out there, try to have like a normal night. Prove that it was fine. You know?”

Raina looks at her phone a moment. “All of us?”

“Yeah I’ve been calling everyone. I think everyone’s in.”

“Darby’s coming?”

Maybe this is it. Maybe this is how they get through to Darby. Maybe this is how she gets her girlfriend back. If they go and it’s fine, it’s just a normal night of camping... maybe she needs this too. She needs something.

“Yeah, Darby too. She’s been talking a lot about it actually, since I invited her.”

“Okay,” Raina sighs the word. “Okay, yeah I’m in.”

“You are? Great! Yeah, okay. This is great. Oh yeah this will be good for us.” Sat’s nervous energy has almost calmed her. If Sat’s excited. And everyone else has agreed. Maybe this is the right thing to do.

“Thanks, Sat,” she says. “I’ve got a plane to catch, but I’ll call you when I get back?”

“Yeah, I’m making sure we’re all on the same page. Same time, same place, just like last time.”

 _I hope not._ “I’ll call you when I’m home, Sat.” And she does think she might. Maybe this will be okay. Maybe she can go into next year with a clear head. 

“Okay, fly safe, Raina.”


End file.
